The Summer Circuit
by Wilderness
Summary: Based in the wonderful world of equines. For horse lovers everywhere!
1. Default Chapter

I've not written in absolutely ages, and I've never had the courage to upload a story before but I couldn't resist giving this idea a shot. It was inspired by Damn the Torpedoes's 'On Tour' which I'm reccomending here and now.  
  
I own the characters that Tolkien doesn't own, who are mainly equine. Tolkien owns the ones he owns. You know who they are. I'm gaining nothing from this whatsoever.  
  
Please review at the end, and remember that English is not my first language!  
  
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"Come on, Faz! We're gonna be late!" Boromir chucked a pillow at his sleeping younger brother. As usual his aim was true and it connected sharply with Faramir's head with a noise that sounded vaguely like 'flop'.  
  
"Wha-? Boromir! What are you doing!?" Faramir sat bolt upright, his hair dishevelled and sticking out at odd angles, his eyes dark-rimmed and full of sleep. Faramir noticed his brother loitering by the door grinning, and scowled at him in annoyance. Drousily, the younger brother groped around and found the pillow originally targeted for his head. But his aim was not as good as Boromir's when wide awake, let alone when still in Dream Land. He threw it randomly in his older brother's general direction, but Boromir had already started off down the hallway, laughing.  
  
"And don't call me Faz, Boz!" Faramir yelled after him, for lack of anything else to say. Boromir didn't respond, but Faramir heard him whistling down the stairs. Grumbling under his breath, Faramir stumbled out of bed and staggered into the bathroom. He showered quickly and dressed, before clattering downstairs considerably more awake than before, pulling a comb through his thick black hair. When Faramir entered the kitchen and headed immediately for the cereal cupboard, Boromir looked up from buttering his toast.  
  
"Looking forward to your first riding lesson, eh Faz?" he asked, grinning widely.  
  
Faramir blinked. Oh no! He couldn't believe that he'd forgotten- Boromir had asked his friend Legolas to give Faramir riding lessons! Faramir was very good with animals, being very sensitive and understanding with them, and he'd been eager to learn to ride for a good while now. Boromir had been riding for five years- since he was eleven- and now Faramir was the same age.  
  
"Come on, we've got to be at the yard in half an hour!" Boromir clamoured, with his mouth half full of toast. Faramir knew about the yard, and had visited it a few times with Boromir. It was owned by an old man, Théoden, who had a son and also his young nephew and niece living with him. It was a livery yard, with no instructors or grooms around to order everyone about. There was a good amount of people there with their own animals, some people owned about three or four horses to themselves. Also there were about eight animals for people who wanted to 'rent' them for a day or so because they couldn't afford to buy one themselves. It was a good system and the yard was, though rather dilapidated, very friendly.  
  
Half an hour later the brothers were strolling up the road to the yard- it took about twenty minutes to walk there from their house- chucking the occasional dirt clod and insult at one another. Faramir was wearing a pair of Boromir's old mucker boots since he owned none himself. They were a bit too big for him and made a loose clunking noise whenever he put his foot down, which echoed annoyingly up the empty country lane.  
  
They turned into the yard at half-past nine, and it was already in a flurry of activity: Legolas was grooming Armchair, a less-than beautiful chestnut cob but the most reliable horse there, Aragorn was leading Hotspur and Roheryn into the field, little Éowyn was cleaning tack in the sun and chatting to her slightly older brother, who was soaping Firefoot's tail. In the outdoor arena Théoden's son Théodred was lunging Westie, his up-and- coming event horse. Théodred was a brilliant rider, and in all the pony club teams, and was a promising young eventer, He was going to make it to the top, everyone was sure. Gimli was mucking out one of the stables. Faramir had heard from Boromir that Gimli, though he loved horses and spent every day at the yard when he could, didn't ride anymore. Boromir had said the Dwarf used to be very good, and had been a promising Pony Club dressage champion. Faramir didn't know what dressage was, nor why Gimli had given up riding. Boromir had refused to let him in on that information.  
  
"Hey, Borry! You're on time- are you ill?" Legolas called over with a laugh, looking up from picking out Armchair's hoof and pushing a strand of dark hair behind his ear.  
  
"Shut up, Ears." Boromir laughed, coming up to him and patting Armchair heartily on the neck. Faramir approached the horse carefully and watched Legolas in fascination as the Elf cleaned out the cob's soup-plate feet with the metal pick.  
  
"Why don't you clear out that triangle part?" he asked curiously.  
  
Legolas looked up, then put down the pick. "That's the frog," he told Faramir, pressing his finger against it gently, "It's the source of blood to the foot and very sensitive. The rest of the hoof is like your fingernail, they don't feel it if you pick them out. But if you picked the frog it would hurt like Mordor."  
  
"Cool," Faramir said, his eyes alight with interest, "Am I- am I riding this one?"  
  
"Yup." Legolas put down the hoof and stood up, running his hand down Armchair's crest, "This is Armchair. I reckon you'll like him."  
  
"Armchair? Weird name." Faramir laughed, gingerly stroking the horse's mane.  
  
"It's cos he's so damn comfortable and reliable. Anyone can ride him, he'll look after you, don't worry- hey, Gimli? If you're going to the tack room grab Armchair's stuff will you?"  
  
"Sure thing!" Gimli called back, as he walked off, hefting the pitchfork onto his broad, muscly shoulder.  
  
A few minutes later, Gimli came back, a bridle over his shoulder and a saddle balanced on his bent forearm. He lifted it onto the door, and hung the bridle on a hook in the wall. He gave Faramir a friendly grin then left with Boromir to bring some hay bales in from the barn.  
  
Legolas lifted up the saddle, then turned to Faramir, "Right, if you're going to ride, you have to learn the ground work too, okay?" Faramir nodded, "Right, I'll show you how to tack up..."  
  
Faramir watched in fascination as the Elf explained how to put the saddle on in front of the horses withers (Faramir thought that sounded like a shrivelled vegetable, but was told it was the name for the slight bump seperating the horses neck and back) then to slide it down into place to smooth out any hairs. He learnt the names of the parts of the saddle, and how to gently pull up the girth (the belt holding the saddle in place) one hole at a time.  
  
The bridle turned out to be much more complicated, and Faramir was shocked when Legolas told him that Armchair's bridle was a snaffle bridle and the most simple one there was. It was easy to put on, though Faramir was a little uncomfortable with putting a metal bar into an animals mouth, but the names of all the pieces of leather were confusing. Legolas assured him he would get there eventually.  
  
Then Legolas left Faramir to keep an eye on Armchair (though the stocky animal was resting, his eyes half closed and the tip of his hind foot touching the floor, his leg bent- he didn't look like he would go anywhere soon) and went off to find Faramir a hat and a leadrope. Whilst Faramir waited, stroking Armchair's mane and gazing about, Théodred brought Westie in. Westie was incredibly striking, with long clean limbs and a beautifully shaped head. Even with Faramir's untrained eye, he could tell the horse had quality. Théodred took him into the stable Gimli had been mucking out and began to untack him. Faramir could hear his sonorous voice, and knew instantly that this was a man horses responded to. He was young, about eighteen, yet he had been around horses since he was born, and knew how to handle them. Faramir admired him immediately.  
  
Legolas came back after a few minutes, and handed Faramir a hard hat. Faramir put it onto his head dubiously. He felt a bit of a prat in the hat but knew that everyone else wore them. Legolas clipped a leadrope to the right ring of Armchair's bit, and threaded it through the left, under the horse's chin.  
  
"I'll lead you for a bit," he told Faramir, "And you can have a go on your own at the end. Armchair won't do anything."  
  
When they went into the sand school, Legolas pulled down the stirrups of the saddle, and pulled up the girth whilst Faramir held the horse. The Legolas beckoned him around to the left side, and took the rope. "Now, you always mount and dismount from the left side, okay? Only in very special circumstances is it the other way round. Now, put your left foot into the stirrup- that's right- then hold onto the front of the saddle, and the mane, leave the reins for a moment. Now, hop, lift yourself up, and swing your leg over.... well done!"  
  
Faramir settled onto the horses back, a feeling of pride growing in his stomach. He felt very high up and important, and he fixed his eyes on the large chestnut ears in front of him. They seemed a very long way away. A grin formed on Faramir's face.  
  
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Woo! I'm actually WRITING! The story will deal with Faramir, but also other members of the yard. In a couple of chapters I think I'll start focusing on Gimli's lost confidence when it comes to horses. Oh, and here's a list of ages for the characters (I've tried to stick as close to canon as is possible with this kind of fic):  
  
Boromir: 16 (typical teenager... you'll see!)  
  
Faramir: 11 (he's so cute...)  
  
Éomer: 8 (aw! Had to resist making him a bit older though...)  
  
Éowyn: 6 (double aw! She's gonna be a right little madame. And ditto with the older thing from Éomer....)  
  
Théodred: 18 (I have no canon info on the year of his birth. Help, please?)  
  
Legolas: 16 (In Elf years- 144 years to an Elf year or so I've heard. So in our years he's... 2,304!)  
  
Gimli: 16-17 (In Dwarf years- I'd say about 45 since dwarves come of age at 40)  
  
Aragorn: 21 (non-canon I'm afraid. I don't want him to be too old)  
  
They're all for now. When I have more characters involved I'll stick 'em on. Merci and please review!  
  
~Wilderness~ 


	2. Chapter Two

A distinct lack of reviews but hey, that's not important is it now? I'm writing and I'm happy! Whee! But THANKYOU to Whitestar, you rock! And I love your story too. I'm just a bad lurker.  
  
I own the characters that Tolkien doesn't own. Tolkien owns the ones he owns. You know who they are. I'm gaining nothing from this whatsoever.  
  
Please review at the end, and remember that English is not my first language!  
  
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Faramir patted Armchair enthusiastically, flushed with exertion- Armchair had decided that today he was *not* going to trot, but Legolas had refused to give up until Faramir had had a trot on his own. Riding was harder than it looked, the boy realised. Boromir always made it look so easy, but Boromir was a bit of a show-off at times. Looking around, Faramir noticed his brother tugging up the girths of a firey looking bay pony and talking to a young man who was bridling a shaggy dappled grey horse.  
  
As if sensing his gaze, Boromir dropped the saddle flap and looked up, "Hey, Faz? How'd it go?"  
  
Faramir was too elated to even be annoyed by Boromir's irritating nickname for him, "Good!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, "It was really fun!"  
  
"Well done," Boromir put on his hat and pulled down the stirrup, "Me and Aragorn are gonna ride in the cross country field, you wanna watch?" He leapt neatly into the saddle. Hotspur danced excitedly.  
  
"Sure!" Faramir was eager to see more experienced riders at work. Maybe he could pick something up from them. Legolas came out of the feed room with Gimli just as Boromir shortened his stirrups.  
  
"Go slow, remember." Gimli told him. Faramir wondered whether the others got used to Gimli's thick accent, because he found it difficult to understand him at times, "Hotspur's only young. He doesn't need exciting."  
  
Boromir, Faramir knew, did not like being told what to do. On cue, his expression darkened. "I can control him!" he said haughtily, "And anyway, it's not as if you ride, is it?" his bright mood vanishing rapidly, as it often did, he dug his heels into Hotspur's sides, heading for the field just behind the yard. A flash of hurt was evident on Gimli's face, but he hid it quickly, and held down Aragorn's stirrup so he could mount.  
  
"Ignore him," the young man suggested, "I'll make sure he doesn't go too mad." Then he trotted off after Boromir, yelling at him to wait up. Faramir went to follow, but Legolas caught his arm.  
  
"If you want to watch, there's a short cut. C'mon, I have no jobs at the moment, and I want to make sure that idiot brother of yours is sensible with that pony."  
  
"I'm coming as well, then." Gimli said in a decisive tone, "I want to be proved right." A cheekily malicious grin cracked on his bearded face, and he turned on his heel, wandering off in the opposite direction, kicking a stone absent-mindedly. Apparently Gimli's mood swings were as common as Boromir's.  
  
Faramir tagged along with the Elf and Dwarf, down a narrow dirt track and across a rackety wooden bridge spanning a small stream, which came out just beside the field. The two were very likeable people, and Faramir was instantly at ease with them. He knew that there had originally been a lot of racial prejudice between the two kindreds, but dwarves had been prejudiced by other races as well. As far as Faramir knew, Gimli's family were the only ones in the area. Faramir thought that was a little stupid, as the dwarves seemed perfectly pleasant people on the whole, but he was no judge really, he decided.  
  
Faramir stayed behind them for a little, listening as they bickered about the good and bad points of the welsh mountain breed. He did not understand terms such as 'good-doer' or 'laminitis', but he was hoping to learn everything he could. They reached the field gate, and Legolas and Gimli both quieted. The three stood watching Aragorn and Boromir ride. It was an interesting contrast: Aragorn rode with as few signals as possible, using his voice more than anything, sitting relaxed in his saddle, rising gently in time to the trot with loose reins keeping only a very mild contact on Roheryn's mouth. Boromir was obviously very talented, but he rode with much more zest, his stirrups quite short, and his reins quite tight. Hotspur strained against him, and it took all Boromir's skill to hold him in check. After a while he relaxed and Boromir began to circle him carefully, but when Boromir relaxed his guard too much Hotspur would pull at the rein and crab sideways, until his rider pulled him into check again.  
  
"He's not giving him enough rein. That's why he's straining," Legolas muttered, "Not enough rein and too much leg."  
  
Faramir was uncertain- it looked to him like Boromir was riding Hotspur very well, and if he let go the pony would burst into a volley of bucks and leaps. He passed this by his two companions. Gimli remained quiet, but Legolas was happy to give out any information he had.  
  
"He's holding him in so tight, that Hottie's getting stressed, and because he's so young, being held makes him crabby, so he behaves worse. And if Boromir's holding him in like that, he's got to stop using quite so much leg, cos it's giving him confusing signals. That make sense?"  
  
Faramir nodded, "Why don't you tell Boromir?"  
  
"Well, he knows. But it is very hard to ride Hottie any other way than how he is. It's easy for me on the ground to tell you that, but when you're on him you're constantly worried about being tanked off with. Boromir's the only one who can actually get him to settle down enough to school, to his credit, apart from Théodred. Anyone can jump him though, he's fantastic."  
  
"He needs to learn to jump in a sensible manner, though." Gimli murmured, watching Aragorn ease Roheryn into a canter, "If he jumps like he does, all haphazard, he'll knock everything flying showjumping, and cross-country... Boromir'll end up killing himself. He seems to think cross-country is galloping flat out and flinging yourself at the jumps any old how." Gimli's tone was bitter, and Faramir wondered whether Gimli had had an accident going cross country which had put him off riding.  
  
After a few more minutes, Aragorn began to jump, which he did in the same relaxed manner as everything else; allowing Roheryn to find his own stride and going with him easily over the fence. They started small and progressed to bigger fences. Aragorn made it look effortless. Boromir looked very professional, however. He kept Hotspur on a tight rein into the fence, with a short bouncy canter, then, three strides out, slackened his hold slightly so Hotspur stretched out his legs and raced almost, before taking off at the right moment and clearing the obstacle with at least a metre to spare. By the time they landed Boromir had a tight grip on the reins again.  
  
Eventually, Aragorn's horse had cleared the largest jump (a huge wooden prism called a tiger trap) and then he called to Boromir that he was going to call it a day. Boromir called back that he was going to jump the tiger trap and then finish. He sent Hotspur into a canter circle.  
  
"Idiot!" Gimli exclaimed, "That trap's about four feet high at least! Hottie's a good jumper but he's not jumped properly for a good long while." Legolas simply covered his face in his hands. Faramir could see why this time- Hotspur, though brave, was not very big and the tiger trap came up past his chest. Boromir took him towards it with as much confidence as any other jump, let the pony go with a kick... Hotspur took off, sailed over, but the height to which he jumped took away his ability to clear the width, and his front feet landed on the back slope of the fence, he staggered mid- jump, and fell. In a flurry of thrashing hooves and dust, Boromir vanished.  
  
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Whee! Cliffhanger! And I don't know why, just decided to give ya one. Whee!!! Please review! 


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